


Ghouls Rush In, or Sunday Bloody Sunday

by FleetSparrow



Series: Drawlloween 2017 [27]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Ghouls, I'm just saying, are way more interesting than zombies, graphic images
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Every year, Jason returns from the dead.  And every year, he gets closer and closer.





	Ghouls Rush In, or Sunday Bloody Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Drawlloween Days 28 and 29

Bruce Wayne sat in his boarded up room, waiting, terrified.  Tonight was the night.  Every year since Jason's death, the boy rose from his grave to come for Bruce.  Every year, he came a little bit closer.  Last year, he'd managed to get inside the house.  Alfred had never been the same since he saw him.

Bruce knew why the boy came.  It was his fault Jason had died.  If he hadn't left him alone.  If Bruce had taken Jason with him.  If he'd been faster.  But he hadn't.  And Jason had died alone.

A door creaked open somewhere in the lower part of the house.  Jason had arrived.

Bruce checked the barricade once more, praying it would hold against the undead power.  No matter what they had tried before, Jason always managed to get through it.  But this time, Bruce had prepared the room himself.  He had an escape route planned through a door in the back of his closet.  The moment the main door opened, he could be down in the Cave.  What he would do next year, he hadn't figured out.  If he made it till next year.

He waited, breath shallow and silent, staring at the door.  How long would it take Jason to reach him?  Minutes?  An hour?  Longer?  Would he even make it inside, or would he stop at the door?  He'd just made it to the stairs the year before.  Maybe Bruce would be lucky.  Maybe Jason wouldn't make it at all.

“Bruce,” said a ragged whisper.

It was already in the room.

Bruce whipped around towards the closet.  There he was.  He come in the secret entrance.  There was no escape now.

“You let me die.”

“I didn't know,” Bruce said, backing away.  “I thought you would be safe.”

“You led me to her,” Jason said.  “You led me to death.”

“She should have kept you safe!  I didn't know.”  Bruce hit the edge of the bed and his knees crumpled, plopping him down into it.  “Please, Jason.”

“You could have brought me back,” he said.  “You could have killed him.  But you did nothing!”

Jason was now more than halfway across the room.  Bruce willed his legs to move, but they remained locked in terror.  Jason shuffled closer.

“You were content with a dead son.  A dead Robin in a case.  You didn't even try to save me.”

“It would have been worse,” Bryce protested.  “The Lazarus Pits are dangerous things.  It wouldn't have been you.”

“And you think this is better,” Jason howled.  “Is this so much better than your living son?”

The room shook with his cries, as if the whole house was it's echo resonating the pain of the creature that was once Jason Todd.

“You don't know what you've done, but you will.  I'll make you feel it all!”

Bruce scrambled up onto the bed, backing away until he hit the headboard.  “Stay away.  Get away!”

“Don't you miss your son, Bruce?”  Jason came closer, walking through the bed.  “Don't you want your Robin back?”

“Not like this,” Bruce said.  “You're not my son!”

Jason howled again, as if in pain.  “I am what you left me!”  Pieces of him started to fall away.  “I am what you did to me!”

The arm that was left grabbed Bruce by the throat with surprising strength.  Jason roared again.

The last thing he saw was Jason’s open, bloody maw coming toward him.


End file.
